Mommy? What's this?

I am bisexual, and I sometimes that I felt more masculine than I seemed. So I wrote this.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I touched myself, thinking I wasn’t born like this. But, if I was…I wasn’t supposed to look this way. I wasn’t supposed to have things jutting out of my chest. I wasn’t supposed to be this way, a girl. I wasn’t supposed to be female. I picked up my scissors off the counter and started chopping off my long hair. When I was done my hair sat, jagged, just beyond my ears. I slipped on a pair of my brother’s boxers that I had stolen, and wrapped a slimmer around my breasts. They no longer were visible. I threw a v-neck band t-shirt on and some baggy jeans. I shoved my feet into some beat up sneakers and slipped on my rainbow wristband. I grabbed my bass and walked out the door. I met my band on the other side of my door. “Hey Kristine,” Jasen greeted me. “No…My name is Kyle.” I stated before walking out of my house with them. I sat in the back of the van and waited to start the long journey to California. I brought out my notebook and stared writing.

Mommy, For years you’ve asked, “Are you confused about your sexuality.” My answer, “No, I’m confused about my gender.” I’m writing to tell you that I may not be, as I seem. For years I have tried hiding the fact that I hate that I was born as a female. I’ve changed my name. Kristine, as I know it, is dead. Kyle, I am. I’m fleeing with the band in hopes of a record deal. I’ll keep in touch. So long and Goodnight

-Kyle, 1921.

P.S. I love you, always will.

Once we hit the first truck stop, I sent the letter out. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and was generally pleased. For once, I knew who I was.

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